"What happens to servants like us when we express doubt?" Hanh asked while curled on the end of her cot, dirtied and calloused toes wiggling freely over the edge. A mere stretch of the arm overhead and she could graze the ceiling, though she'd rather soak up the chill emitting from her bedroom window. It was a simple and small circular opening, and granted her a view into the palace gardens.

That, in comparison to the peasants of Sphinx Nation, was a grand honor in itself. Nevermind the uncomfortable proximity and bunking of servant quarters. Hanh's bunkmate was located on the other end of the chamber near her own cot, shedding her oversized robes and glasses.

The nurse shot the handmaiden a skeptical glance. "Depends on where exactly your doubts lie, Hanh. We're privileged but far from secure."

Hanh adjusted positions to face the woman fully, hands resting in her lap as she watched her disrobe. There was an indifference behind her gaze, but one that far from lacked familiarity. Perhaps a lingering fixation. And yet, her mind remained wrought with thoughts that burdened her for the last few days. A sinking suspicion that existed without clear logic. "I mean the boy. Kazue," she said, "His presence has always been welcome. I rather find him adorable and sweet. Incredibly so. I'd adopt him as my own if I could, Tula."

"So you say and yet..." Tula discarded the last of her nursing attire and slipped into a nightgown; it wasn't made from silk like the royals but she had the fortune of indulging in fine cotton. Something meaningful and resting a step below disdain stained her demeanor. "All you've done is pour salt in the wound, rather than getting to the point. I never realized you were so adamant about raising children on your own." Her tone could've been coy, would've been in the ears of any other, but Hanh could read Tula's bitterness like an open manuscript.

A sigh escaped the handmaiden. "I merely wish to speak about Kazue, not our personal affairs." Tula's visage reverted back to a mask of normalcy, though her eyes continued to glimmer like pools of saltwater. It was far from ideal, but Hanh accepted the opening. "As I was saying, Kazue is a wonderful child and thus I worry for him. This place, Tula, this palace--it is a prison. To us and surely to him as well."

"The Hajin follows Princess Rayna's every beck and call like a bright eyed puppy. Merchants were publicly slaughtered in his defense." The onset of a headache bit at Tula's temples. "By now we can safely assume that his well-being is of top priority. No one dares to even speak ill of him anymore. What reason would you have to worry?"

"There is a difference between physical and emotional well-being," Hanh countered, her voice tightening with frustration. "I'm aware that your occupation requires emotional detachment and clinical analysis of everything, but he is not an indestructible specimen! He is a poor, homeless child! And he lives under the same roof as..."

"The queen," Tula finished. She crossed the short distance between them and settled down next to Hanh, placing a delicate hand upon her shoulder. "I know. Do we not share the same fate? The same constant fear and paranoia? I'm not blind. Perhaps as visually impaired as a newborn goat, but not blind." Her words lightened with humor and satisfaction fluttered up her lungs as Hanh offered a giggle, no matter how short lived it was. She studied the woman's features, committing them to memory when she had already done so many times before. "...You have more on your mind than just this, don't you."

Her observation seemed to have struck gold. Hanh's vision snapped the other way as her nails curled into the sheets, but a reassuring squeeze from Tula encouraged her to lock eyes once more. "I'm also concerned for the princess," she said, her words tumbling like a confession long overdue, "She has been acting strangely as of recent, Tula, ever since Kazue was put under her care. I don't know what to make of it. There were moments in which she was harmed--bleeding! And at times, I see this..." Her breathing stuttered with a shiver. "This coldness in her eyes. It's so swift that I think I'm imagining it. Surely, I am? Tell me that I am."

Tula didn't reply immediately; rather, her touch slid from Hahn's shoulder and down her arm with feather-like pressure, before interweaving their fingers. A deep contemplation flowed through her veins. Finally, she whispered, "I cannot tell you what could be bothering the princess. I don't have the slightest clue. However, as for the boy... Something about him is odd. Unnatural. When I treated his wounds, they healed quickly."

"Well, young boys can be resilient--"

"Far too quickly," she interjected, "I'm trying to tell you, Hanh, it was inhuman. I've never witnessed an individual capable of such a thing, no matter how young or healthy or stubborn." She shook her head in disbelief. "It's impossible."

"Is he even a boy, then? Are the stories of demon Hajin blood true? Am I supposed to accept this as a possibility?" The frustration from before tried to resurface, but a swipe of Tula's thumb across her knuckles combated the urge. Slain by the fine blade of the nurse's stubbornness.

"Focus on your breathing. That's far from what I'm saying. It's just that," she gave pause to consider her next words carefully, "You may not need to worry about this indestructible boy after all. I have faith that he'll be fine. And if anything is to happen to him?" A tug of their conjoined hands closed the last shred of distance between them, leaving no room nor chance for Hanh do anything except hold her breath. "I promise you, I shall do my best to help him. In the only ways that I can as a lowly nurse."

"You're not lowly," Hanh said, her voice thinning with a shaky exhale. Then, her gaze snapped down to their hands and she hastily pried herself free, jumping to her feet. "But you are a nurse. And I am a handmaiden." Tula attempted to stand and reestablish their grasp, yet her efforts proved to be futile. Hanh maintained distance between them, raising a single finger of silent warning. "As servants, we live to serve and nothing else. No matter what," she swallowed, the motion grazing her throat like sandpaper against flesh, "Or who we want."

"Hanh--"

"Excuse me."

Without another word, Hahn snagged her primary shawl and wrapped it tightly around her nightwear. Her exit was swift and final.

†

A cleansing chill permeated the halls and trailed up Hanh's heels. It was evening--especially late evening--and many hours past the time royalty retired to their rooms for slumber. Thus, she had managed to scrape up an excuse for leaving behind her sandals in the servant quarters, rather than admitting her cowardice. Her inability to face Tula at the moment.

The silence about her also posed as comforting, breathing space into her previously clogged skull and allowing her shoulders to unfurl. And yet, she paid mind to her expressions and instinctively molded herself into the prim, proper, optimistic persona her services required. Clockwork. All merely clockwork.

However, her stride faltered as she rounded the corner and spotted a guard traversing the halls, heading in her direction. Immediately, caution and uncertainty stirred in her gut. His breastplate swayed clumsily about his torso, as if it was a size too large for his shape, while the hilt of his sword was tattered and dirty, very much unlike the pristine conditions of Sphinx armory.

She raised a hand, her tone hardening with authority. "Guard? Excuse me, stop. Your armor belongs to the perimeter unit. Why are you inside the palace?" And yet, the guard failed to take note of her presence and continued onward, the gap between them now reduced to a few feet. Confused, she raised her voice again. "Guard! I'm sorry, but I must ask of your name. If you're going to ignore orders, then it's my responsibility to report you--"

Crack!

His arm swung out like a blur, his fist smashing into Hanh's jaw and knocking her unconscious instantly. Her head ricocheted from the blow and smacked into the wall, before crumbling to the carpet.

The guard removed his helmet, revealing the disfigured and bored visage of Amon. He paused and stared at the fallen servant, then nudged her with his boot. Unresponsive. "Sleep well, handmaiden..." Recovering himself, he rested the same gloved hand upon his sword's handle and resumed following the scent trail. Although peppermint filled the palace like a swamp fog, he could pinpoint specifically thick and lingering traces from singular individuals, and one among them carried a hint of apple and spice.

Exactly the same as Amon's target.

And so, the bodyguard in disguise followed. If he acted swiftly, then he knew with confidence that he could finish this job before Hanh would wake to alert someone.

†

Sleep did not come to Rayna.

The princess laid supine in bed, her ribs weighed down by the small child slobbering on top of her, warm and curled snuggly beneath the sheets. Of course, there was a squabble; she'd fought harshly to keep Kazue in his corner, but he bulldozed through her protests like an ocean over a flame. His insistent whining didn't help in the slightest either; thus, it was an inevitable defeat that still sat sourly in the base of her throat.

Regardless, she refused to touch him anymore than necessary. She had a single hand on his back, while the rest of her body remained awkwardly rigid. And yet not rigid all at once. It was a complex situation that she couldn't quite understand, and the lack of rest confused her more. But, again, this wasn't the first time Kazue baffled her.

Her thoughts strayed back to Kepi's fear, her absolute refusal to tell the princess anything. Slowly, her free hand raised, studying the smooth skin with skepticism. These are the hands of a trained and feared assassin... but something far more fearsome lurks. Something scarier than the death I can bring. If only she had another lead to follow; if only she could open doors to a new chamber of theories. All of her investigations have so far smacked into a mile-thick wall.

Click...

Like the flip of a switch, instincts willed Rayna to slacken; her limbs flopped to the mattress, her eyes slid shut, and her breathing deepened with the facade of slumber. Not a single servant would dare to enter her chambers without knocking first, let alone at an hour as late as this.

So Rayna waited. And she listened.

The slow groan of her door easing open was muted, barely a decibel above Kazue's snores, yet the hairs on Rayna's arms stood to attention. Footfalls soon followed. An individual step was taken per second, the intruder's movements measured and weightless... This was the grace of a killer. A warrior so deeply ingrained into a life of stealth that stalking the shadows was like second nature. Their one true calling.

A target that Rayna wouldn't dare to underestimate.

Hours upon hours of lashings and beatings and discipline were engraved into her senses, all for the sake of teaching her the true meaning of composure. When one could endure the woes of pain and smother it by sheer will power alone, then no amount of turmoil could shatter their armor. And yet, even then... Rayna's innards trembled. Quivered unlike anything she'd ever experienced in her entire life. She failed to grasp why. Why now, when an enemy loomed closer and closer to her vulnerable form? This situation was no more or less risky than her previous missions. Nothing was different.

Except for Kazue.

Who was laying on top of her. His back exposed to danger. His flesh awaiting to be ripped into.

The might of a thousand elephants trampled Rayna's lungs. Her muscles coiled with every step reaching her ears. They grew closer and closer. Ever closer. The gentle rattle of Sphinx armor from overhead.

Then came the slicing of steel against leather. The withdrawal of a sword from its sheath. Meticulous. Calm. Perfect.

Deadly.

Before Rayna could stop it, her fingers curled into Kazue's robes.

It was far too late to regret her mistake.

Air sliced in two.

Rayna jerked right and rolled away from the blade, only to feel a stinging pain flare across the back of her shoulders. An old lash wound reopened, ripping a pained grunt from her. The full swing of the blade tore further into her mattress, balls of wool and shreds of silk filling the air like a shower.

It was the roll that snapped Kazue awake and the smacking of his body into the wall that roused a yell. He blinked through the haze. First came Rayna's form curling around him like a shield. Then the shadowy figure towering over them. All he could see in that moment was a flicker of light, the second descent of a blade.

Rayna seized a pillow and braced it against her forearm, raising it to take on the full force of the swing. It did little to cushion the blow, ripping cleanly into the thin muscle coating her bones. Another reopened wound. But she had no time to dawdle. No time to think.

Gnashing her teeth, she twisted around to slam her foot into his gut. He stumbled back, if only slightly, but it was enough for her to roll out of bed and crouch. She blindly reached under it, palming wildly in search of her weapons.

"Rayna!"

Her gaze snapped up at Kazue's call. The world exploded with white as a sharp ringing filled her ears, cheek smacking into the bed's wooden frame, skull throbbing, a putrid coppery taste hitting the back of her tongue. A glob of black met the floor next to her with a thud—a boot—and it prodded at her face, forcing unfocused eyes to look up.

All that pierced the fog was Kazue's terrified sobbing.

Until she was yanked up by her hair.

"Assassin..."

Time slowed. Every ounce of air evaporated from Rayna's lungs. Her heartbeat spiked, pounding so hard that her ribs would crack. She remembered that voice--a shredded and garbled mess of noise that was held together by a single thread of clarity. Just barely. A scant fraction of humanity. This was the coachman who had been haunting her nightmares.

"In the name of Isis Nation and..." His blade prodded the base of her throat. "Lord Hakon's honor... In his father's revenge, I deem..." A chilling bass entered his voice. "You dead." She gripped the sword with both hands, jagged steel cutting into her palms, but it was no use. Amon's arm tensed and he jabbed forth--

Something small and shimmering smacked into Amon's helmet, sending it flying off his head. He reeled back from the impact, more out of surprise than anything else, before another bottle struck him in the face. There was a sickening crunch of bone against glass, but it paled in comparison to the ragged cries ripping from Kazue's throat.

He raided Rayna's dresser, filling his arms with scented oils and perfumes, visibly trembling with rage so intense that his little heart could explode at any moment. Tears and mucus streamed down his face. "Don't! Touch! Her!" The raw emotion in his scream made Rayna's breath buckle, pure surprise kindling up her spine. Kazue chucked more and more bottles at Amon, the assault forcing him to raise his sword and block his face. It was far from painful, but it was a nuisance.

And it was an opening.

Her grip slid down the sword to clench Amon's wrist and elbow. With a violent twist, joints popped out of place, his limb bending unnaturally under the armor, before yanking him around to drive a kick to his shins. The momentum and loss of balance flipped him onto his back with spine breaking impact. The moment he was down, Rayna dashed for her bed again and jammed a hand under.

This time, she tasted success.

The princess whipped out her golden Khopeshes, the onset of familiarity washing over her like an old friend. She twirled the blades in her grasp and just as she turned to face her adversary--

Her heart stopped.

Amon's sword rested under Kazue's chin, pressing gently into the pale column of his throat. The boy was held in place by the arm she had broken, which was now rearranging itself with a series of snaps and clicks. Perfectly healed. Bones and flesh melded into their rightful place once more. "You drop the weapons and..." Amon lowered until his disfigured cheek brushed Kazue's, milky gaze locked onto Rayna. "The boy is spared. Your... life for his."

A whimper shook Kazue to the core, his vision blurring with a thick flow of tears. He uttered the princess's name like the last distress call he'd ever make, only for his words to devolve into a battle for oxygen, sucking in breaths between hiccuping sobs. Amon's grip tightened. "One last chance, assassin. Drop... your weapons."

A beat of stillness reigned the room. Expression and insides broiling with barely restrained fury, Rayna fell to her knees and with a flourish of gold, she stacked the Khopeshes in her hands, palms facing up, and placed them on the floor. She didn't say a word. Didn't dare move a muscle.

"...Good. He may live." Amon dragged Kazue aside, intent on chucking him into the corner and swiftly decapitating the princess. However, the boy's robes shifted and exposed the scar upon his shoulder. Even in dim lighting, the symbol stood out to Amon like a blinding beacon.

Like an omen.

Suddenly, the color drained from his face and ice daggers pierced clean through his ribs, leaving behind a tremor of emotion that he hadn't experienced in years. "The link... Th-the link," he whispered. As if possessed by a frightened spirit, he raised the sword before he could think.

And drove it into Kazue's stomach. He ripped the blade free, letting the boy crumble into a bloody heap and retreated through the bedroom window, fleeing like a cornered animal.

"No!" Rayna's scream was nothing short of devastation. She cleared the distance between her and Kazue in the blink of an eye, pulling him into her, head cradled against her shoulder, blood smearing her robes, trembling hand pressed harshly over the wound. The young boy had always been pale, as fair as the demon Hajin that made peasants gag with disgust; and yet, in that very moment, his complexion rivaled that of a ghost, wide eyes brimming with fatigue and fear. Panic. Slick fingers reached out frantically, holding onto Rayna for dear life as gurgles bubbled up the back of his throat.

"It... I-it hur... " He heaved a wet cough, lungs squeezing into themselves with every inhale.

"Be still." It didn't matter whether or not the motion was physically possible; the princess brought him in closer, as if willing the injury away with a healing touch she only now longed for. "Be still. You are fine. You are..." She couldn't bring herself to utter another lie.

Barking and footsteps raced outside her door, before it slammed open. Guards barreled into her chamber, hands at the hilts of their swords and heads swerving about wildly. "Your Highness! We were alerted to--"

"Take him to medic!" Although her tone was hurried, she handled Kazue's body like a delicate gem and placed him in one of the guards' arms. The man nodded, gaze raking over him with a level of curiosity that nearly made Rayna's blood boil. "Are you deaf?! I said take him to medic! Now!"

The unbridled venom shot his way was enough to melt through metal. His posture erected. "Yes, Your Highness!" As he left, another guard approached Rayna and grasped her by the elbow.

"You're wounded. Please, allow my men to escort you--"

"Unhand me this instant before you lose that hand!"

The guard found himself momentarily speechless. "I... b-but princess..."

Ignoring his babbling, Rayna brandished her Khopeshes once more, drawing baffled gapes from her guards, and donned her cloak. Kazue's cloak. The cloak that started it all. She perched herself on the window sill, easily spotting Amon's form weaving through the palace grounds like a snake. "Wait here," she said. A borderline demonic growl escaped her. "The vermon's mine."

She disappeared before anyone could stop her.